He'd do what you taught him.

He'd meet the same cruel fate.

She reminds me of this figure. They’re like a blank slate personified, wiped clean. They don’t ever seem to notice me there, to even acknowledge me.

They’re too focused on tugging and clawing at themselves, like a rabid wolf. If there was a chain, they would be both predator and prey. It leaves weird streaks that hurt my eyes.

I still stare at them. They pause only for a few seconds to acknowledge it’s doing something. They never seem happy with the result, only carving further. I think about why they do this when they are destroying themselves.

Memories try to rise at me when I think about it, but so does bile in my throat. I don’t think about it. (Original piece)

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So now I've gotta run.

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Pub: 20 May 2022 06:29 UTC

Edit: 27 Sep 2025 21:24 UTC

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